I don’t know just what
moment it was when wanting
became desire, wishing
blazed into passion but
for nothing in particular,
so if I found it I might
well not know what I had.
None of this was love
much was likely delusion,
but passion consumes logic
and returns only ashes.
I am older now, passion
has grown softer around
it’s edges, but it remains
consuming like a fine Cabernet
whose last glass you
only want to savor.